Misunderstandings
by Addie Riddle
Summary: The summer after fourth year, Hermione is over at the Weasley's, visiting. One night, she can't sleep and goes up to Ron's room to express her worries. Accidently falling asleep, they are found the next morning by Mrs. Weasley. Review all who review me.
1. Night Chats

A/N: Well, here we go. I was going to wait until I fully had this story written out, but I decided no. Besides, my beta Red kinda told me to post this . . . and you should never upset your beta. *grins* Kidding Red. Let's see . . . This will be kinda short, just a few chapters long. It was something just floating around in my head, that I felt the need to write. It will be H/Hr, filled with embarassment. I really think that's all I have to say. Read, review and receive a surprise in the next chapter (I'm serious, review, and receive a surprise). Enjoy!

Dedication: To Faye and Red . . . who both helped me make this not suck.

~@~

__

Knock, knock, knock.

"I'm asleep . . . I was asleep! Now go away!"

"It's me," Hermione whispered through the door, nervously looking around the empty corridor to assure herself that no one was awake.

She heard a loud sigh from the other side. It was immediately followed by a; "Come in,".

Hermione slowly pushed the door open, careful not let it creak. She stepped into the room, and quickly looked around. The usual posters of the Chudley Cannons were still hanging, though just barely. Looking closely Hermione could saw that the paint was chipping off in places, and had in others faded to a dull orange. Clothes were flung left and right, hanging over chairs, sprawled on the floor, dangling off the edges of shelves. To her left, she saw that the closet door was stuck half-open, odds and ends pouring out of it onto the floor.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, glancing at the messy stack of comics next to the cluttered desk, then back at the figure on the bed, "You too?"

Ron was lying on the bed, covered by the ripped comforter, arms folded behind his head, feet hanging off the edge. He was staring at the ceiling. "Did you know that my ceiling has 142 cracks in it?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Hermione said, edging slowly around a pile of socks to where Ron was. "I'm worried."

Ron looked away from the ceiling, and set his gaze on Hermione, who was standing above him. Giving her a quick, searching look, he scooted over, and patted the empty space next to him. Hermione sat down, and leaned against the headboard. "Me too."

"Do you think he's changed?" Hermione asked, looking over to where the redhead was laying, a line of worry set deep into her forehead.

"His letters sound the same, if that means anything," Ron replied, his own line of worry setting in, "But I don't think it does."

"I really hope he's okay."

Ron nodded and turned back to the ceiling, " You heard what my mum said. We can't expect him to be just like normal. He's been through too much."

"Yeah, I know, it's just . . . I wish he was normal is all." The bushy-haired girl started to fiddle with a hole in the blanket, "At what time is he arriving tomorrow?"

"Mum's leaving to pick him up at around eight."

"Do you think we can help him? I mean . . . do you think we'll be able to be there for him? Do you think he'll let us help him?"

Ron sighed, and looked back to Hermione. He gave her a long, searching gaze then nodded, as if to himself, "Honestly?" she nodded, "No, no, I don't think he'll let anyone help him. He's scared. And God knows I would have been too."

"Scared?"

"Scared that by letting someone get close to him, he'll put them in danger. He still blames himself for what happened to Diggory."

Hermione bolted up into a sitting position and snapped around to look at the boy beside her. "He can't! It wasn't his fault, he didn't know!"

"Even so, he still feels guilty." Ron ran a hand through his hair and sighed once again, "He almost didn't want to come you know. Even _after_ Dumbledore put up all those Protection Spells."

Hermione looked at Ron, puzzled, "Come where?"

"Here."

Leaning back in shock, the bushy-haired Gryffindor found herself mouthing wordlessly. Ron glanced at her, then swung around, until he was hanging upside down on the bed, rummaging around under it for something. She could hear his muffled voice speaking, "I have the letter he wrote somewhere around here . . ."

Hermione laid down on the bed, and looked over to where Ron's feet were hanging on the bed, "Really? He didn't?"

Ron swung back up, accidentally kicking Hermione in the leg in the process. "Oh, sorry . . . Well, I can't find the letter, but he owled me last week saying that the Dursleys had changed and were being really nice to him, and that he wanted to stay with his aunt and uncle for a bit longer." Ron gave a bitter laugh, "Of course, that'd never happen, so I owled him back saying that I didn't believe him and that we were coming to get him anyway." Ron pulled on the blanket Hermione was laying on top of and tried to crawl under it. "He could never lie well to us."

Hermione rolled over and looked at where Ron was struggling to pull the blanket out from under her. "Why though? I know he hates it at his aunt and uncle's . . . why on earth would he want to stay there?"

Ron looked back up at the ceiling and said, "Like I said, he doesn't want to put us into danger."

"How do you know so much about him? He never talks to me." Hermione also turned to the ceiling, a small frown visible on her face.

"It's all in his tone, I guess," Ron paused, then voiced the same thing Hermione had been wondering about. "When did I get so sensitive and mature?"

Hermione gave a small chuckle. "I just . . . I'm so worried about him that it's like an obsession. It's hard to explain."

"I know what you mean."

"You don't think the reason he doesn't want to come is because of . . . well, you don't think it's because of me, do you?" She asked, the line of worry etched back into her brow.

Ron rolled over and looked to where Hermione was, staring intently at the ceiling. "What? What do you have to do with anything?" He paused, eyes widening, "I didn't mean it to sound like that!" he added quickly.

Hermione nodded, still staring at the ceiling, "I know, I know." Ron rolled back over, "It's just . . . what if he's avoiding me? Because of . . . well you know . . ." Hermione felt herself blush and she stared even harder at the ceiling, "At the train station, right before he left I . . ." She paused.

After a few moments of confusion Ron burst out with an "Oh my . . ."

Hermione covered her face with her hands and said in a muffled voice "I didn't mean to kiss him, I just _did_. And I think that he's been avoiding me because of what . . . I think it made him uncomfortable. He hasn't answered any of my letters all summer." She rolled over so her back was facing Ron.

Ron, on the other hand, started snickering, and within moments had started laughing - rather loudly in fact. Burying his face into his pillow, the redhead tried desperately to muffle his laughter. Hermione rolled back over, and stared at his shaking form. "Ron!" She scolded, "What on earth is so funny? You're going to wake the whole house! Here I am, trying to confide in you, thinking you've matured, and you just laugh in my face!"

Ron lifted his head up and managed to gasp out, "No, I didn't mean-" before he was overcome with laughter yet again. Hermione glared at him and turned away, just as a little sniffling sound escaped her. That calmed Ron down quickly.

"Hermione!" Ron said, startled, "I didn't mean anything by it!" He looked at her back, willing her to turn back around, "It's just . . . you like Harry, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. A lot." Hermione managed to squeak out, before she found herself dissolving into tears. A worried Ron stared at her, then reached out a hesitant hand, and gently patted her arm, before snapping his hand back quickly. 

"I knew it. I just knew it." he muttered, more to himself then anyone else.

Hermione rolled back over, and gave Ron a wavering smile, that just seemed to sadden Ron more then reassure him. "I'm sorry, I know how you hate crying." She said, "I'm just so worried about him. I really do like him, and I know we're just friends, but . . . oh I don't know."

"Really, it's okay. For what it's worth, I don't think Harry's avoiding you. If anything, I get the feeling he doesn't want to seem weak around you. That's probably why he's been rather . . . quiet around you."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I'm still worried."

"Me too."

With that said, they both turned and stared at the ceiling, quietly counting the cracks. Before long, Hermione felt her eye lids droop, and with out knowing what was happening, she was soon fast asleep. Laying next to her, with a blanket separating them, Ron was quietly snoring, also fast asleep.


	2. Morning Surprise

A/N: As promised, the next chapter. Not as good as I would have hoped, but even my beta couldn't correct anything, so . . . here you go. Enjoy!

Dedicated to: My Beta, Faye, CatalinaRose, jaffacake, starheart, Fred et George, The French Padfoot, and Moonlight Yellow. Thanks to you all! Oh, and here you go "Hands out brownies to all who reviewed (I had a better surprise, but wait until the next chapter for it.

****

As the early morning sun crept through the windows, Mrs. Weasley gave a small sigh of content. Early mornings, before the others had woken up, was her favorite time of the day. The house was actually silent, giving her time to just _think_, and she was alone, a whole new day set out before her.

As Mrs. Weasley sat in the kitchen, sipping at her coffee, she let her mind wander. She had some chores that needed doing, and a dinner that had to be fixed. Not to mention she had to go and fetch Harry from that awful Muggle house at eight. Though she supposed she could start the laundry before that. Maybe even get a bit of ironing done. Mrs. Weasley stood up, quickly washed her mug, then start on gathering the necessities for breakfast.

Five floors above her, up the rickety stairs, and past the landings, lay Ron, quietly groaning from the harsh morning light hitting his eyes. Still too tired to fully wake up, he stretched and rolled on his side, facing his back to the window and the sun that shone through. Within moments he was drifting back off to sleep, not giving a care to the hard object his arm was now slung over.

****

Mrs. Weasley slowly made her way up the stairs, stopping at each landing to silently collect all clothes in need of washing. Fortunately Ginny had put her clothes into her hamper, saving Mrs. Weasley the work of digging around her room for them. Percy had done the same, as had Mr. Weasley and herself. Fred and George had at least attempted, throwing their clothes in the general direction of the hamper. As Mrs. Weasley trudged up the final staircase, she thought ahead to Ron's room. He usually ignored his hamper, and she did not expect today to be any different.

Carefully, Mrs. Weasley pushed the door ajar, and stepped inside. She was right. Ron had piled his garments in every nook and cranny of his room. Except his hamper. Mrs. Weasley set to work.

Working her way around the room, she finished at the foot of the bed. Smiling slightly, she looked up at the peaceful form of Ron. He looked so calm, and relaxed, and Mrs. Weasley couldn't help but feel a surge of pride run through out her. This was her youngest son, her last boy.

Mrs. Weasley grinned as Ron rolled over, yawning, and turned over to his other side, leaving a large space on his bed. Or rather, leaving room for something that would take up a large space. A human sized space. She wrinkled her brow in thought, as she looked down to inspect the tangled blankets and the breathing form. Pulling down the comforter a bit, Mrs. Weasley gave a gasp. There, lying next to her Ron, her youngest son, was-

"Hermione?" She shrieked.

A loud moan being her only response, and not at all the response she was looking for, Mrs. Weasley dropped the laundry in her hands, a gasped loudly. She stared down at the stretching form of her son, and then to the girl next to him.

Ron blinked and gave a weary look to his mother, "Mum? 'Smatter?"

Mrs. Weasley felt her jaw drop in disbelief as she gaped at her boy. A look of utter incredulity crossed her face and she slowly raised a hand and pointed to the still sleeping form of Hermione. Ron followed his mothers finger and looked down next to him.

"BLOODY HELL!" Ron jumped up out of bed, blanket tightly wrapped around him. "Hermione what the-"

Putting aside her shock just long enough to scold Ron for his "filthy mouth", Mrs. Weasley gawked at Ron and then at the, in spite of Ron's shattering yells, resting figure that was Hermione.

"Mum, I swear, this isn't what it looks like-"

"A girl? A _girl_? In you _bed_? What on earth . . . never have I seen . . . I can't believe-"

Slowly Hermione's eyes fluttered open, and she sat up, stretching slowly. " Good morning Mrs. Weasley. 'Morning Ron." Hermione paused, mid-stretch and glanced at the other two occupants of the room. Then did a double take, first resting her eyes on Ron, who was still wrapped up tightly in his blanket, standing a few feet away from her, then gazing at Mrs. Weasley who stood mid-yell, surrounded by a pile of laundry, a look of absolute fury on her face, mixed with a bit of astonishment.

Hermione paused, took in a deep breath, and let out a shattering scream.

****

"Honestly, Arthur, a _girl_. Hermione at that. In his _bed_. At night. _Alone_!" Mrs. Weasley found herself pacing the length of her room, two hours later.

Mr. Weasley looked up from where he was pulling his socks on. "Now Molly, I'm sure it didn't mean anything, you heard what Ron said, and I believe him." That having been said, he gave a firm nod, and went back to his socks.

"Arthur, you can't be serious! He's a teenage boy. With a _girl in his bed_! Need I remind you of hormones?" Mrs. Weasley stared at her husband, clearly thinking the decrease in his I.Q. must have been a new development. "Have you forgotten what the other boys were like at this age? What you were like?"

With a wave of the hand, as if it wasn't truly important, Mr. Weasley replied, "Now, now Molly, calm down. Of course I remember what the other boys were like. And I also remember that we can _trust_ Ron. He's not the type to say one thing to our faces, then turn around and do the opposite!" He paused, thinking over what was just said. "Well, I trust him this time anyway. Besides, the same thing happened to me when I was around his age, and I can-" Mr. Weasley cut himself off, catching the look Mrs. Weasley was throwing at him. "The point is, nothing happened to me, I'm sure nothing happened between Ron and Hermione." Despite the effort, his little speech did not have the effect of calming down his wife, like wanted.

"Nothing?" Mrs. Weasley said, not missing a beat, an accusing sound, clearly in her voice.

"Nothing." Pause. "Well, except for that point of time when everyone else was asleep and-" Suddenly, Mr. Weasley's eyes widened, and he stared at his wife, a stunned expression making it's way across his face, "Oh. Oh no. Oh, dear, no. This is bad . . . very bad."

"That's what I've been saying to you, Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley sank down onto the bed, next to her husband. Hesitating, he reached a hand out, and gently patted her back. "I've been thinking about this whole mess . . . now, it may be too late, but we must do something. I'm not going to let my baby boy be so - so-" Mrs. Weasley gave up, and sank her shoulders in a defeated way.

Hoping to cheer her up, even just a bit, Mr. Weasley tried to get her to continue. "A plan, dear?"

She cleared her throat, and nodded. "Yes a plan." Turning to her husband, she took on a pleading look. "Now, Arthur, I know we've waited until the boys were sixteen, for all the others, but I think in this case it's only right to start a bit early." Ignoring the look of horror on her husband face, Mrs. Weasley continued. "I think, Arthur, dear, that it's time you gave Ron the talk."

"Molly!" Mr. Weasley burst out. "You can't be . . . you don't mean . . . Molly, you don't seem to understand the terror and embarrassment those two little words bring, let alone the action itself!"

"Arthur, you're over reacting." She answered, her turn to take on the air of something not important, "It's only right. Dear, there was a _girl_ in his _bed_! Besides . . . man-to-man, he'll open up to you."

After a few minutes involving Mr. Weasley trying to come up with a defense, and Mrs. Weasley shooting down each attempt, he finally gave in, looking defeated.

"Fine Molly, I'll talk to Ron. Just - just don't blame me if it doesn't work." With that, Mr. Weasley sighed, and walked out of the room.


End file.
